Living With the Ghost
by Leia1979
Summary: Three years after Captain America crashed Hydra's super bomber in the arctic, Howard Stark finally locates the wreckage. When the recovery team is unsuccessful, Peggy Carter leads a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission to keep sensitive information out of Soviet hands. (Canon divergence AU.)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: **I wanted to write something in advance of the Agent Carter series coming in January. It's taken a bit longer than expected, so here's to finishing it by the series finale rather than the premiere. This story follows Marvel Cinematic Universe canon through 1946 (the "Agent Carter" One-Shot). The story title comes from the lyrics of "Ghost" by Darling Parade.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

_October 1948_

A sleek jet plane flew low over the frozen arctic tundra. The white Stark Industries logo emblazoned on the aluminum craft almost disappeared against the all-white backdrop. Despite the beautiful but empty landscape, the plane's pilot kept his eyes glued to the vast number of instruments covering the cockpit.

"Sir," a crisp, British voice crackled in the pilot's ear. "Did you mean to travel all the way to the Arctic Circle today?"

Howard Stark ran a frustrated hand through his black hair, causing it to stand up in all directions. He hadn't meant for his test flight to take him quite so far away from New York, but he found himself drawn to this area over and over again throughout the years.

A blinking light to his right drew his attention before he could reply to Jarvis. The amber light belonged to a prototype metal detector that shouldn't have been able to detect anything at this height. Stark pushed the controls forward, taking the aircraft closer to the snow covered land below. The light began to pulse faster, and he circled slowly looking for any break in the unrelenting white.

"Holy shit," Stark exclaimed slowly as he saw a large dark mass protruding from the tundra. It was a giant black wing-the one blemish in the perfect white terrain. He could only hope the rest of the _Valkyrie_ remained beneath. Howard flipped a switch on the instrument panel to drop a beacon to the ground below and turned the jet back towards New York.

"Jarvis, get Peggy on the line." He paused for a second and changed his mind. "No, not Peggy. Not yet. Get Phillips."

"Sir, may I remind you that General Phillips retired two months ago."

"He's going to want to hear this. I'll be back in New York in three hours. Have him meet me at my office."

"And what should I tell him?"

"Tell him...tell him I found Captain America."

* * *

><p>"It's a damn fool idea."<p>

Stark's meeting with Brigadier General Chester Phillips (Retired) was not going well, to put it lightly.

"You're asking me to send men to the middle of frozen nowhere." Phillips paced the room, not even looking at Stark. "You do realize I'm not in the army anymore."

"But-"

"It's almost November. Even if I could, it would be too dangerous until spring, at best." Phillips finally stopped pacing. Retirement obviously hadn't changed him-the man made a plain navy wool suit look like a uniform. He finally looked at his host, and the stern expression softened just a bit. "It's been three and a half years. You're asking me to retrieve a frozen corpse."

"But with the serum-"

"If Steve Rogers had somehow survived that crash, he would have hiked back to New York by now," Phillips snapped. He finally settled in one of Stark's leather high back chairs, satisfied he'd gotten his message through the hotheaded engineer's thick skull.

"You haven't mentioned any of this to Carter, have you?"

Stark picked up something mechanical from his desk and began to examine it. "No. I…" he trailed off. _I didn't want to get her hopes up_ lingered in the room even if the words were left unspoken.

"Good. She's got enough on her plate these days."

* * *

><p><em>May 1949<em>

"Happy birthday, Peggy," Stark said, casually dropping a piece of paper on her busy yet tidy desk at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Washington, D.C. headquarters.

"What is this?" she asked, picking up the page with a crimson-manicured hand. "And my birthday was last month," she added drily. Her mother couldn't believe her only daughter had made it to thirty still unmarried, and she hadn't hesitated to let Peggy know.

"It's a map. Hey, who are those from?" he asked, abruptly changing topics as he took in a small bouquet of pink and white roses on the corner of Peggy's desk. The flowers stood out in her clean, efficient, and rather impersonal office.

"Yes, I can see it's a map, and it's none of your business."

"Is some naïve underling sweet on the boss?" Stark rotated the glass vase to look for a card. "Nah, they're all scared of you. Give me a minute. It's not like you get out much," he jabbed, tapping his foot as he thought.

Peggy slapped his hand away and sighed, knowing he wouldn't leave until he got an answer. "They're from Richard."

"Richard?" He racked his brain trying to place the name. "You mean Dick from the CIA? What a bore."

"Was there something important you wanted to talk to me about? Perhaps whatever is going on in northern Canada?" She waved the map in front of his face. "If it's a holiday, I'd prefer someplace warmer."

"Yes, the map." Stark suddenly went from teasing to uncommonly serious as he remembered why he was there. "Peggy, I found it." She stared at the map again, and he could see the very moment the thought entered her mind. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth involuntarily.

"No," she breathed.

"We're finally bringing him home."

Peggy stood abruptly, as if her body was ready to leave that very moment. Then her mind caught up. "Are you sure?"

"I saw it myself," Howard said confidently. "I just need you to sign the requisition."

"And Phillips?"

"He came around. Eventually. He made sure to call me every insult in the book first."

Peggy gave him a wry half smile. "Whom are you taking?"

"Dum Dum, of course. Maybe a couple more Commandos, if they aren't too busy. And I hoped you could loan me a couple S.H.I.E.L.D. agents."

"If you recall, this is your agency, too, Howard."

"Yeah, but you know all these people a lot better than I do."

She grabbed a pen and started jotting names on a notepad. "Here are a few candidates," she said, tearing off the page and handing it to him.

"You can come, too," Howard said as his eyes skimmed over the short list of names.

Peggy hesitated. "I can't. There's just too much to do here." The telephone on her desk rang, as if to prove her point. "Good luck, Howard. Please keep me informed."

"Yes, director," Stark replied with a mock salute.

Once he was gone, Peggy Carter sank into her chair before her knees gave out. Ignoring the ringing telephone, she opened a small drawer in her desk. Hidden safely beneath a stack of papers was a framed photograph she hadn't looked at in months. She regarded the photo for a moment, running her thumb across the glass, before closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, and setting it gently back in the drawer.

* * *

><p>A week later, Peggy had largely managed to block Howard Stark's mission from her mind in order to keep functioning. There was enough going on at the fledgling Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division that her mind was otherwise occupied. In the nearly four years since the end of the war, S.H.I.E.L.D. had participated in the OSS' Operation Paperclip, bringing former Nazi scientists to the United States and keeping them away from the Soviets. With the so-called Cold War, keeping a close eye on the Soviet Union and its allies had become critical.<p>

Perhaps most concerning were rumors circulating about the Soviets developing their own nuclear weapons. Peggy had no doubt HYDRA technology had survived the war and was now in Soviet hands. The only saving grace was that Howard Stark had been able to recover the Tesseract. It, along with other powerful objects confiscated from HYDRA by the SSR, was now safely stored in a S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility that Howard liked to call the Fridge.

Peggy sat in a quiet conference room with the pages of the latest intel report from Moscow strewn around her. A long-cooled cup of tea had been pushed just out of arm's reach. The report referenced several Soviet bioengineering projects, including a super-soldier program that sounded like an attempt to recreate Abraham Erskine's serum. However, unlike the SSR's program, the Soviet program included brutal reprogramming and a number of deaths from failed attempts. Peggy repressed a shudder at some of the more gruesome descriptions.

"Director!" Anna, the office's petite switchboard operator, was practically panting as she leaned against the door of the conference room. "I've been looking all over for you. Mr. Stark is on the line, and he says it's urgent."

"Put him through to my office," she replied, hastily gathering the pages of the report into a stack. Anna ran for the switchboard as fast as she could in her impractical high-heeled shoes. Peggy strode purposefully to her office and picked up the telephone handset as she waited for Anna to connect the call. She took a deep breath to try to calm her suddenly pounding heart.

"Peggy?" Howard's voice crackled with static.

"Yes, I'm here. What have you found?" She sounded infinitely more calm and collected than she felt.

"It's not … I don't understand!" Peggy could hear the strain in his voice, but the static was making it nearly impossible to comprehend him.

"Say that again, Howard. You're breaking up."

"... not here!"

"You mean he wasn't inside?" As much as she'd tried not to get her hopes up, Peggy felt a wash of disappointment.

"No, the whole goddamned bomber is gone!" Stark shouted, the static finally subsiding a bit.

"Are you sure it was there to begin with?"

"Yes, I saw it with my own eyes. I dropped a beacon to make sure I could find it again." Howard made a noise of frustration. "It was here. Someone else beat us to it."

Peggy heard a brief scuffle and a new voice came on the line. "Stark may be a crazy sonofabitch, but he's right." She recognized the deadpan tone of Jim Morita. "There's a giant hole in the ice and massive drag marks. Someone really wanted that plane. Sorry, Carter," he said in a softer tone. "We all wanted to find him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_July 1949_

"Dr. Volkov's debrief, ma'am," a dark-haired man in a nondescript black suit announced as he placed a manila envelope on Peggy's desk.

"Thank you, Agent Pearson." The man left her office as she set down the memo she'd been reading to pick up the new envelope. She noted the large red "Eyes Only" stamp on the exterior as she removed the stack of pages from within.

_ Volkov, Dmitri Danilovich  
><em>_ b. 12 May 1904, Leningrad (St. Petersburg)  
><em>_ education: University of Vienna, chemistry and medicine__  
><em>

She skimmed over the long list of Dr. Volkov's accomplishments in order to read the agent's assessment on the final page of the report. _Recruit for S.H.I.E.L.D. science division,_ Pearson recommended.

She flipped back to the second page when two words caught her attention: super soldier. It wasn't the first she'd heard of the Soviet super-soldier program, but Volkov was the first scientist to be brought in with any connection to the project.

"Director Carter?" a hesitant voice and a soft knock on the door interrupted her reading. Peggy absently held out a hand to take whatever report the soft-spoken Agent Reed was delivering.

"Ma'am, you need to see this." Eleanor Reed was an analyst responsible for collecting and decoding reports from undercover agents in the field. Peggy rarely interacted with her other than to receive those reports, and the meek brunette had never requested an audience until now. Peggy put the Volkov debrief back on her desk.

"The weekly report from Moscow came early," Reed said, as if it should be significant. Peggy responded with a look that was partly encouraging but mostly said get on with it. "The Moscow team is rarely on-time, let alone early, so I started on it right away. They report rumors of a significant leap in the Soviet nuclear weapons program with testing set to begin next month. Previous reports indicated they were still approximately a year away from test stage."

"Do you believe the previous reports were correct?"

Reed looked a little surprised by the question, but recovered quickly. "Yes, ma'am. Reports from multiple sources appear to indicate the Soviets acquired existing weaponry to reverse-engineer."

"HYDRA weaponry?" It was almost a statement.

"That is the current theory, ma'am. A large convoy was seen delivering supplies to the Laboratory Number Two installation in Moscow." Reed pulled out a number of black and white images showing a stream of oversized trucks. "These were received via radiofax this morning."

Something on one of the facsimile pages caught Peggy's eye. "That looks like the wing of an aircraft," she said, pointing to a dark, grainy object on the back of one of the vehicles. An idea started to take shape, but she needed more intel before she could act on it. "Excellent work, Agent Reed. Inform the Moscow team to send daily updates. Make this your top priority."

"Yes ma'am," Reed replied before hurrying out of the office.

"Anna," Peggy said into her telephone handset, knowing the switchboard operator listened in on everything. "Get me Agent Pearson."

* * *

><p>It took less than an hour to arrange an interview with Volkov. The fair-haired man looked more weathered than Peggy expected of a 45-year-old. His features were gaunt and pale as if the scientist never saw sunlight. He looked nervous, but the interview room's antiseptic pale blue tile and bare steel furniture weren't designed to put subjects at ease.<p>

"Hello, Dr. Volkov. I'm Agent Carter." Peggy sat in the chair across from Volkov, well out of reach, just in case. Using her former title was just another measure of security. No need to make herself a target unnecessarily.

Volkov muttered something in Russian that, despite her very limited grasp of the language, seemed likely quite rude. She was starting to question Pearson's recommendation. Undaunted, she repeated the introduction in German, earning her a nod and no additional cursing.

"I'd like to ask you about the super-soldier program," she continued in the same language. "You were trying to recreate the work of Dr. Abraham Erskine."

"Da," came Volkov's monosyllabic answer.

"Were you successful?"

Volkov answered with a stony look.

"May I remind you if you wish to stay in the United States, we need you to cooperate."

The scientist appeared to weigh his options. "You want super soldiers," Volkov responded in fluent German. Peggy kept her expression neutral. "I can do that."

"So you were successful at recreating Dr. Erskine's formula?"

"Almost. We were on the verge of a breakthrough when your agents persuaded me to leave Moscow."

"And what led to this breakthrough?"

Volkov paused just a little too long. "We managed to recover some of Dr. Erskine's research from HYDRA."

"What would you need to continue this research? Were you able to bring it with you?"

"Alas, the research is still in Moscow." The scientist said no more. After a minute ticked by without another word, Peggy stood to leave when Volkov suddenly added, "I could retrieve what I need if the United States will protect me."

"If you tell me what it is and where to find it, we can send agents while you remain safe here," she countered.

Volkov shook his head. "Your agents won't understand what they're dealing with. I must go."

"I'll see what can be arranged," she said, closing the door to the interview room firmly behind her.

She found Pearson in the next room, having directed him to observe the interview. "Did you catch any of that?" she asked.

"My German is a little rusty, Director," he replied sheepishly. "Something about research in Moscow?"

"I suspect he has far more than research," she said, tugging absently on the hem of her wine-colored jacket. "Make the arrangements and accompany Volkov at all times. Do not lose him. Do you understand, agent?"

Pearson nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Have Agent Reed notify our team in Moscow-they'll be your backup. And have her brief you on Laboratory Number Two. I have a feeling you might find yourself nearby."

"Ma'am?" he asked with furrowed dark brows.

"Just a hunch."

* * *

><p>Over the next several days, Agent Reed continued to deliver the Moscow reports with little new information. Pearson and Dr. Volkov had made it to Leningrad without incident and were expected to reach Moscow by Thursday. But then Thursday came and went with no update from Pearson. Reed sent an urgent coded message to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in Moscow, but Friday morning arrived with no sign of Pearson or Volkov.<p>

Reed shoved a loose comb back into her curly brown hair and made a beeline for the director's office. She was on the phone, but hung up quickly upon seeing the distress on Agent Reed's face.

"Pearson's gone dark, ma'am. Last contact was Tuesday from Leningrad."

"They never reached Moscow?"

"Not that I can confirm."

"Dammit," Peggy swore softly and considered her options for a moment. "Pack your bags, Agent Reed. We're going to Russia."

"Pardon?" Reed asked in confusion, having had few forays into the field.

"You speak Russian, know our agents in Moscow, and are familiar with the current intelligence situation. You are coming with me."

* * *

><p>"This is a damn fool idea, Carter," Phillips growled. "I expect this kind of idiocy from Stark, but not from you."<p>

After years of working with the man, Peggy was hardly cowed by his attitude. She stood and leaned across her desk, hands firmly planted on the blotter. "I will not sit here and run this operation from across the ocean."

"Then do it from London." The look she gave him in response used to make the recruits at Camp Lehigh shake in their boots. It had no affect on him. "All you have is some half-baked intel and a missing scientist."

"But it all makes sense. If the Soviets recovered the _Valkyrie_, it would explain both the leap in their atomic weapons program and the super-soldier research Volkov mentioned. It's critical to stop them on both fronts."

"That still doesn't explain why the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to personally lead this operation. What if you get caught, Carter?"

Peggy wasn't sure if she imagined it, but it almost looked like there was a tiny crack in Phillips' armor. "Then this becomes a bit more than a temporary favor I'm asking of you, General."

Phillips huffed and stood to leave. "You always did have a habit of disobeying my orders. At least where Rogers was concerned. Just do me a favor and come back alive so I can enjoy my retirement in peace."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_August 1949_

Kotka, Finland was as close to the Russian border as Howard Stark was willing to fly. Peggy started to reminded him of the time they nearly got shot down over Austria, but he cut her off. "I guess I've developed a better sense of self-preservation since then."

Surprised, Peggy looked over at former Howling Commando Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan, but the large man just shrugged. The drive from Finland to Russia was blissfully uneventful, if bumpy and uncomfortable, and the foursome of Carter, Reed, Stark, and Dugan reached Leningrad by daybreak. Forged paperwork would get them on a train to Moscow that morning, but getting in wasn't really what concerned Peggy. Two couples traveling to Moscow didn't raise suspicions, even if Dugan didn't exactly blend in anywhere.

They managed to get a compartment to themselves, which Howard promptly swept for listening devices. The team was silent until Howard gave the all-clear. Even then, conversation was kept to a minimum. The train was cold, and the ride was rough. With several more hours to go until they reached Moscow, Dugan left in search of food with Reed as his translator.

Peggy watched Howard slumped in the corner with a sullen expression. "What's eating you?" she finally asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I know you, Howard," she said with a pointed look.

Stark watched her in silence before sighing. "He was my friend, too, you know."

"Of course I know. You searched when no one else would."

"But I failed, Peggy. I failed and the Ruskies got him."

Peggy took his hand in the cramped compartment. "You didn't fail. There are so many things I wish had gone differently, but we can't change them. We keep going and do what we can to make it better."

"Since when do you give motivational speeches?"

"Since you became so maudlin." She drew back with a half smile. "I almost miss your outrageous flirting."

"Oh really?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I did say 'almost,' Mr. Stark."

* * *

><p>Disembarking from the train at Moscow's Leningradsky Station was heavenly after ten hours of nearly non-stop jolting. It took two blocks of walking before Peggy could feel her legs properly again. Reed was leading them through a number of dark streets, apparently having memorized the route to the Moscow team's base of operations.<p>

Agent Reed stopped in front of a square brick building and double checked the numbers. She knocked on the heavy wooden door which was quickly answered by a pale woman with blonde hair in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Carter, Dugan, and Stark stayed hidden in the shadows during the exchange, but Peggy kept her pistol in hand. Words were exchanged in Russian, and Reed motioned them in with a subtle hand signal. Holstering her pistol, Peggy followed Reed inside with Stark and Dugan on her heels.

The apartment was on the bare side and only modestly heated by a stove in one corner of the room. Two men and the woman who had answered the door watched their group cautiously until one of the men stepped forward with a smile and extended hand.

"Director Carter, welcome to our humble abode," the young sandy-haired man said. He shook her hand enthusiastically. "I'm Matt Parker, and these are my colleagues Julia Belenko and Sam Osborn."

"A pleasure." She nodded cordially to each agent in turn. Reed had briefed them on the train, and Peggy was certain she'd met each of them at least once before. S.H.I.E.L.D. was still small enough for that luxury.

Parker, according to Reed's information, was the grandson of Russian immigrants named Pankov, which was the name he used in Russia. He was the de facto team leader and communications analyst. Belenko's parents were part of the Ukrainian diaspora, and the New York native spoke multiple languages and was partial to undercover field work. The dark haired man, Osborn, was the team's weapons expert. The three had been stationed in Moscow together for nearly two years.

"I managed to get inside Laboratory Number Two as part of the cleaning crew," Belenko said as she unrolled a hand-drawn map on the plain wooden table. "The primary laboratory is underground-it's a single floor and quite large. Parts I believe to be from the _Valkyrie_ are housed in this section." She indicated a large open space on the map. "A fortified and soundproof weapons test room is over here."

"And what's this area?" Peggy indicated a blank corner of the map.

"Medical research, ma'am. The janitors aren't allowed in there. This bank of computers is about eight feet high and forms a wall separating this area from the rest of the lab."

"Is there a way to get eyes on that section?" Stark asked.

"There's a series of catwalks suspended from the ceiling. It allows the guards to keep an eye on everything from above."

Peggy started memorizing the layout of the lab. "How many guards?"

"Maybe six on regular patrol up above. Most are more concerned with people entering and exiting the building."

Parker handed a small stack of black and white photographs to Stark. "Here's what we have on the research. It probably makes more sense to you than to us."

Howard leafed through the photos largely featuring partially disassembled weapons and what looked like part of a jet engine. "Looks like HYDRA equipment." He got to the last photo and stared at something tucked between two workbenches.

"Howard?" Peggy asked. Dugan looked over Stark's shoulder at the photo finally noticing the same item that held the shorter man's attention. Dum Dum removed his ever-present bowler, and Peggy knew something was wrong.

Stark reluctantly passed the photo to her, and it took her awhile to spot the slightly curved metal disc stored casually between the benches. Although the photo was black and white, her mind filled in the red, white, and blue paintjob. She remembered how the paint hadn't adhered to a few marks caused by bullets fired in an embarrassing fit of jealousy.

Peggy swallowed to banish the lump threatening to form in her throat. "Well, we know we've found the right place," she said briskly. "Recommendation, Agent Parker?"

"Sam?" Parker deferred to his colleague.

"We have explosives and remote detonators, ma'am. Get in, get out, boom."

"Hold on now," Stark interrupted quickly. "Do you realize what kind of materials they have in that lab? You'd risk blowing half of Moscow to kingdom come."

Osborn looked disappointed. "Strategically placed charges on structural supports would collapse part of the building. Bury their research without exploding it."

Peggy looked to Howard, who nodded. "All right then. How soon can you be ready?"

Parker and Osborn looked at each other and made a few small head and arm movements. Peggy recognized the silent communication of people who'd worked together a long time. "Tomorrow evening," Parker replied.

"Excellent. Please work out the details with Mr. Stark. I don't want any more 'boom' than necessary."

It was close to midnight when the plans were finalized. After several long days of traveling, Peggy was more than ready to sleep-she'd take the floor if it came to that. She and Reed were given space in Belenko's room. It was cramped quarters, but months spent in battlefield tents had made her able to sleep most anywhere.

"Director Carter?" Belenko asked quietly while Reed was still in the other room helping Osborn prepare the detonators. "I have something that I didn't want to give you with everyone else around."

Curiosity piqued, she set down the hairbrush she had just taken from her small traveling bag.

Belenko took a hesitant step forward and continued, "I found this in the lab. I shouldn't have taken it, but I didn't think anyone would notice it missing. I thought you would want it." She held out her hand with a round gold object in her palm. Peggy picked it up and opened it, revealing a compass with a newspaper image of her own face affixed inside the top like a locket. She gently closed the compass and squeezed her hand around it, feeling the metal bite into her palm.

"I recognized it from the SSR films on Captain America," Belenko said hesitantly.

"And what did you do during the war, Agent Belenko," she asked, changing the subject before the other woman could start asking questions Peggy didn't want to answer.

Belenko took the hint. "I was with the OSS, mostly in France."

"And you chose S.H.I.E.L.D. over the CIA?"

"I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. might be less of a boys' club."

"Well, I do hope we haven't disappointed you."

"No, ma'am," Belenko answered with a smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Moscow's Laboratory No. 2's underground facility was large and cold. Lights hung from the pipes in the ceiling, many of them shining down on steel worktables. The small team of Carter, Stark, Dugan, and Reed surveyed the area from a suspended catwalk, giving them a bird's-eye view of the facility. The soldiers they'd taken out were drugged and securely bound to the metal railing beside them.

Just like on Belenko's map, most of the lab was devoted to engineering and weapons development, but one partitioned-off corner held medical equipment. Massive filing cabinets and dark grey metal capsules lined the walls. Each capsule stood seven feet high with a rectangular window towards the top. They appeared to be the right size to store a human body.

Peggy tried not to think of Steve being in one of those containers, no matter how much they reminded her of the machine he had been placed in for Erskine's experiment so many years ago. She pushed the macabre thought from her mind to focus on their mission. A light hand on her arm brought her back to Agent Reed, who crouched next to her with a pair of binoculars in hand. Reed silently pointed to the far corner of the room and passed the binoculars.

Peggy held up the binoculars and spied a man tied to a chair. His face was bruised and swollen, but she recognized the lanky brunet man as Agent Pearson. She swept the rest of the medical room for Volkov, but none of the men in lab coats looked like him.

Two of the scientists stood on either side of a table with clipboards in hand while a third monitored the massive computer that formed part of the room partition. Whatever was on the table was covered by a white sheet. She assumed it was a man, but she couldn't see his head from this angle-one of the scientists was in the way.

Agents Parker and Osborn had made it to the floor of the engineering section without drawing attention. They split apart, placing charge packs on predetermined structural supports throughout the lab. Each pack had one of Stark's tiny radio receivers. Once they were clear of the building, Stark would send the detonation signal to collapse the lab without detonating any nuclear material, or so they hoped.

Peggy turned her attention back to the medical area. The men with the clipboards had left, leaving only one scientist monitoring the computer. She could now see the man lying on the table, his broad shoulders and head uncovered by the sheet. Peggy stifled a gasp and nearly dropped her binoculars. His dark blond hair was shorn close to his head and his face was thinner and paler than she remembered, cheekbones standing out in sharp relief, but she knew that face. She'd seen it in dreams and nightmares hundreds of times in the last four years.

"Steve," she whispered, saying his name aloud for the first time in years.

Stark, on her other side, must have heard and swung his binoculars around. "He's alive," he exclaimed softly in disbelief.

Peggy cursed herself for being too distracted to think straight. She looked again and this time noticed wires trailing from Steve's head to the computer terminal. She had known from the moment Volkov mentioned recovering Erskine's "research" that the Soviets had Steve's body, but she had refused to entertain any fleeting notion that he might still be alive.

"Charges are in place, ma'am," Reed whispered. "Osborn and Parker are clear."

Peggy signaled to Dugan to take care of the lone scientist at the computer. Dugan raised the rifle and hit the man squarely in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. The man slumped in his chair just as he started to reach for the dart. Slinging the rifle over his back, Dugan released a rope from the catwalk and began to silently rappel down. Peggy followed on a second rope. The computer banks partitioning off the medical room would cover them unless someone was watching the ceiling. Stark and Reed followed closely behind them.

As soon as her feet hit the floor, Reed ran to Pearson. Pulling a knife from her satchel, she began to cut the ropes binding his wrists and ankles to the chair.

Peggy, Stark, and Dugan surrounded the table, all of them momentarily taken aback by the sight of their long-dead friend.

"Steve, can you hear me? It's Peggy," she said softly, clenching her hands to keep her voice steady. "Howard, get these wires off him."

"I don't know what these wires are or how deep they go. Who knows what these psychos have done to him."

Peggy looked at Dugan, who sliced through the leads with a knife. "We can fix whatever they've done to him once we're safely out of here," she replied. She started to gently lift Steve's head and shoulders from the table to help Dugan pick him up when Steve's arm lashed out, catching her in the midsection. Peggy stumbled backwards from the blow, barely staying on her feet and fighting to fill her lungs with air again. By the time she'd recovered, Steve was on his feet and grappling with Dugan. Howard scrambled behind Dugan to maneuver the tranquilizer rifle. The first dart missed, but the second caught Steve's shin through thin drawstring pants. He stumbled slightly but continued to drive Dugan backwards. The noise was going to bring people running any second.

Peggy pulled her sidearm and leveled it at Steve. "Captain Rogers," she said sternly. Pounding adrenaline allowed her to hold the weapon steady despite the sharp pain in her ribs. He paused for a second to take in the pistol pointed at his bare chest, but his blue eyes showed no recognition. A grunt came from behind them as a long metal pipe crashed into the side of Steve's skull. He fell heavily to the ground to reveal Agent Pearson standing behind him. Pearson dropped the pipe when he saw Carter's pistol still pointed at him.

"He's breathing, just unconscious," Stark announced. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Dugan hoisted his former captain over his shoulder in a fireman's carry as the first gunshot rang out. "Move out," Peggy called as she scanned the exits and the catwalk above. "Take this." She tossed another gun to Pearson. "And try not to shoot any of us." She fired at a soldier who appeared on the catwalk above them.

"Ma'am," Reed called as she ran behind Stark and Dugan with a pistol in hand to cover their retreat. "There are people trapped in here-being experimented on."

A bullet whizzed by far too close for comfort as Peggy broke into a run. "There's no time, Reed. Howard, now!"

"But we're not clear!"

"Now!"

The gunfire stopped as a series of explosions started on the other side of the laboratory. It was sheer chaos as soldiers and scientists ran for cover. The retreating agents were soon forgotten as the Soviets feared for their own lives.

It was an excellent diversion, but something was wrong. The ceiling should have started raining down on them during their escape, but it didn't. Most of the noise was coming from the opposite end of the lab.

Outside in the dark, cool night, they met up with Agent Parker, dishevelled with weapon drawn.

"Osborn?" Reed asked quietly. Parker just shook his head.

A truck pulled up beside them and suddenly at least four weapons were trained on the cab. Two raised hands appeared in the driver's window followed by Belenko's face. Weapons were lowered, and Pearson and Parker opened the tailgate so Dugan could set down Rogers.

"My god," Belenko said, eying the unconscious man. "Is that-?"

"In the flesh. Though I'm not so sure about the mind," Stark said bitterly as he climbed into the truck bed. "Let's get somewhere safe before he wakes up."

.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Laboratory No. 2, also known as the Kurchatov Institute, was the site of the U.S.S.R.'s nuclear development program in the 1940s and '50s. The Soviet Union's first nuclear weapons test was held in August 1949.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Belenko drove them to a safehouse outside of Moscow. No one said a word on the journey. Too many nerves were frayed raw from the loss of Agent Osborn, the failure to destroy the laboratory, and the recovery of a man everyone thought dead.

Once Parker and Belenko declared the safehouse clear, everyone moved inside, dropping what little gear they had in the middle of the room. The spartan safehouse made the Moscow team's sparse apartment look like the Waldorf Astoria. Dugan carried Steve to one of the empty rooms and laid him on the dusty wood floor, as there was no furniture other than a table, four simple wood chairs, and a small, threadbare couch in the main room of the house. A tiny, soot-blackened fireplace occupied one corner of the room with a meager stack of wood beside it.

"I guess no one ever planned on actually staying here," Howard remarked.

"I'll be able to get supplies in the morning, but until then, this is it," Belenko remarked with a hard edge to her voice.

"And what do we do about…" Howard trailed off, gesturing to the other room where Steve was still unconscious. "We don't know whether he's going to be Steve or Boris the killer when he wakes up."

Peggy gave him a look that would have terrified anyone else in the room, but Stark wasn't deterred. "We don't know what has been done to him," he insisted.

"Parker, help Mr. Stark come up with some sort of restraint system until we can further assess Captain Rogers' condition." Her cool, official tone belied the anger and frustration burning inside.

"Ma'am," Reed said quietly from beside her. "I grabbed some medical supplies while we were in the lab. We can sedate the captain if necessary."

"I hope it doesn't come to that, but nonetheless, good thinking. Please assist Sergeant Dugan for now, and keep those supplies ready. And now," she said, looking at Agent Pearson as Reed scurried off, "I'd like you to tell me everything that happened since you left Leningrad last week. Let's start with what happened to Dr. Volkov." She would rather be the one helping Dugan with Steve, but duty came first.

Pearson looked weary with dark circles under his eyes to match the dark bruise on his left cheek. His rumpled shirt had a number of dried bloodstains. He slumped in one of the few chairs and seemed to contemplate standing to deliver his report before deciding it was too much effort.

"Somehow the MGB knew we were coming. There were agents waiting at the train station in Moscow. They grabbed me and Volkov."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"Dead. One of the MGB agents shot him."

Peggy sighed. "And how did you end up at the laboratory?"

"It looked like they were working on some sort of mind control. I was going to be their next lab rat. Thank you for getting me out."

She dismissed his gratitude with a wave. "Is that what they were doing to Captain Rogers?"

"Maybe. I was only there for a couple days," he said apologetically. "I didn't see much. Just computers and wires and-" He stopped abruptly, realizing the director probably didn't want to know the last part.

"And what, Agent Pearson?"

"Screaming, ma'am."

Peggy's jaw clenched. "Let me know if you remember anything else. Is anything broken?"

Pearson moved his limbs experimentally. "I don't think so, ma'am."

"I'll send Reed to help you clean those cuts." Peggy made her way slowly to the back room as her own body started to protest now that the adrenaline had worn off. She didn't think anything was broken, but there were definitely a couple bruised ribs.

Dugan leaned against the wall of the small room, arms folded across his barrel chest. Reed hovered near the door, and Peggy sent her out to look after Pearson. "Any change?" she asked as she took in Steve's pale form lying on the floor. His wrists and ankles were bound together with sturdy rappelling ropes that had been reinforced with heavy-gauge wire. Someone had put a rather ugly and ill-fitting shirt on him that was most likely Dugan's.

"None," he answered. The word carried the weight of disappointment.

Everything about this was so wrong. The joy she'd felt at Steve being alive had been crushed by anger at what the Soviet scientists had done to him and fear that he might never be the same. She knelt beside Steve and gently ran her fingers across the stubble of his scalp checking for injuries. The sight of the dozen thin wires protruding from his skull made her feel ill.

"How hard did Pearson hit him?" Stark asked from the doorway.

"I don't think there are any fractures. Can you tell me anything about these wires?" Peggy asked.

"Eighteen gauge copper electrical wire. They must have been using it to deliver electrical pulses to certain parts of the brain, but I'm an engineer not a neurologist. You have more medical training than I do, Peggy, so unless Dum Dum got a medical degree and didn't tell us, we're out of luck."

A low groan cut off Peggy's retort. She watched silently as Steve opened his eyes but made sure she was well out of reach this time. He moved his head slowly from side to side, taking in the room and its occupants, locking on Dugan holding the tranquilizer rifle aimed at his torso.

"Where am I?" Steve asked, his voice rough and breathy. He slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position, wrists bound tightly in front of him.

Peggy stood and took a step back when he moved. "Russia."

Steve nodded in acknowledgment, and Peggy took that as a good sign. "Do you know who you are?"

His brow furrowed in concentration for a moment. "I can't remember."

She tried not to let her disappointment show. "You are Captain Steven Rogers of the Strategic Scientific Reserve. You're from Brooklyn, New York, and you enlisted in the United States Army in 1943. Does any of this sound familiar?"

"I'm afraid not," he said ruefully. She could see the dismay on the faces of both Stark and Dugan in her peripheral vision.

"These are Howard Stark and Sergeant Dugan," she said, indicating each in turn. Steve still showed no sign of recognition.

"And you are?"

The innocent question caused a sharp pain in her chest, even if the rational part of her had been expecting it. He didn't know who he was; she could hardly expect him to recognize her. "Agent Carter, also of the SSR." She fell back on the identity he knew, even if he couldn't remember at the moment.

Steve cocked his head to the side as he thought-the movement wasn't like him. "Carter, Margaret. Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

"Yes," Peggy said slowly as a million different thoughts fired in her mind. Stark grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room.

"How did he know that," Stark hissed.

"I was going to ask you the same."

"It's gotta be the programming. We can't trust anything he says."

Peggy yanked her arm away. "He has amazing regenerative powers. I have to believe he can recover from this."

"But he might not," Howard said sadly.

"I cannot believe you of all people are ready to just give up." Peggy stalked away before she gave in to the impulse to do something stupid.

"Peggy!" he called after her. She ignored him and kept going.

Pearson and Reed sat on the battered couch near the empty fireplace talking quietly while Parker sat at the lone table by himself with a tarp-covered object in front of him.

"Belenko?" Peggy asked.

"She left to get supplies."

Peggy pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. "I'm sorry about Agent Osborn."

Parker nodded but said nothing, continuing to watch Pearson and Reed across the room. He took a breath to steel himself. "I'm concerned we may have a leak," he whispered. "The lab should have been leveled but half the explosives didn't detonate. And how did the MGB know when Dr. Volkov would arrive in Moscow? How is it they killed the valuable scientist but not the American agent?"

"You think it's Agent Pearson?" Pearson had been badly beaten, but self-injury to sell a story wasn't unusual. He had subdued Steve to assist their escape, though. If Pearson was a mole, what was his objective? "Keep an eye on him."

"Yes, ma'am. And one more thing. Sam took this from the laboratory. Maybe it will help Captain Rogers." He pulled the tarp aside to reveal Steve's shield. The red, white, and blue painted Vibranium disc had more battle scars than she remembered. She splayed her hand over the white star at the center.

"Thank you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It was late morning when Belenko returned with food, more firewood, and a few cots. Steve's shield had proved no more useful at jogging his memory than she had, so Peggy dragged one of the cots to an empty room and lay down. Despite sunlight filtering through the dirt-encrusted uncovered window, it didn't take long for exhaustion to claim her.

"I can try and force it down."

The nightmare was always the same.

"I'll get Howard on the line. He'll know what to do."

Except it wasn't actually a nightmare.

"There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I gotta put her in the water."

The worst moment of her life played over and over in technicolor.

"Please don't do this. We have time. We can work it out."

Except in her nightmare, she could see Steve in the cockpit of the massive bomber. She could see the endless white landscape of ice that surrounded him.

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die."

She could see the bomber hurtling towards the ice, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it.

"Peggy, this is my choice."

Peggy bolted awake with a gasp and nearly fell out of the cot. The nightmare always ended the same way, with the crackle of static on the radio. She wiped a tear from her face with the back of her hand. Today was different. Steve Rogers was alive, and she was going to do everything in her power to bring him back.

For a brief moment, she wondered if she'd imagined finding Steve alive. She rushed to the other room, disregarding her rumpled clothing and tangled hair. She found Parker and Belenko standing watch and dismissed them. Steve was awake but silent. Someone had given him a chair to sit on, and he turned a curious look on her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Peggy shook her head, now feeling embarrassed by her overreaction. She raked a hand through her knotted brown hair and remembered why she kept it short during the war. Running her hands over her mussed clothing in a futile attempt to smooth the wrinkles, she felt a lump in her jacket pocket and pulled out the compass. She didn't know what possessed her to take it on this operation-for luck maybe.

"What's that?"

"This is yours," she said, placing it in his hand. She noted his ankles were no longer bound, just his wrists. Someone-probably Dugan-had decided he wasn't likely to attack again. He probably hadn't liked seeing his former squad leader trussed up like a turkey.

Steve opened the compass, and she could tell he was looking at her picture within. He looked healthier than yesterday, the pallor of his skin lessened and his eyes brighter. Almost half of the wires were gone, too-likely pushed out as he healed. Someone cut the rest of them short so they were less noticeable. He studied the compass in silence for a long time before speaking.

"You look different. Not bad different, just different. Not that you could ever look bad," he rushed to cover. "I like your hair long," he added sheepishly. It was the most Steve-like thing he'd said since they found him.

"I see you still haven't learned how to talk to a woman, have you?" She bit her lip to avoid crying or laughing or whatever overly emotional outburst was threatening to surface.

The Steve Rogers she knew years ago would have been staring at his hands out of embarrassment after that exchange, but he continued to study her. Peggy uncharacteristically ducked her head to avoid his scrutiny.

"I missed our date, didn't I," he said quietly. Peggy's eyes widened in shock as she looked up at him. "The Stork Club, eight o'clock. Do you remember?"

"Of course _I_ remember," she retorted without thinking. "You remember?"

"You said you would teach me to dance." He paused like it took some effort to recall. "I was on Schmidt's bomber, and we were talking over the radio. I was going to crash the plane away from any people. That's the last thing I remember before waking up here."

Peggy closed her eyes as her mind involuntarily went to the nightmare that played over and over again. She took a deep breath to clear her thoughts. "You don't remember the Soviet lab?"

Steve thought. "There are flashes. A big warehouse. A bunch of guys in white lab coats. The worst headache of my life-and believe me, I used to have some doozies."

Peggy reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out a Swiss army knife, stepping closer to Steve.

"Peggy?" he asked in a concerned tone, standing awkwardly and taking a step away from the chair. "I don't have a shield this time."

She grabbed his wrists and sighed. "Will no one let that go?" she asked in exasperation as she cut through the rope binding his wrists. The small knife, though sharp, wasn't going to cut through wire, so she cut as much as she could and stepped back raising an eyebrow at him. Steve gave a sharp tug and the wire snapped, falling to the floor with a soft clatter.

They stared at each other, neither knowing what to do next. Four long years for Peggy must have felt like only days to Steve. She'd had far too much time to contemplate her regrets. Peggy quickly closed the short distance between them and flung her arms around his neck. After only a brief moment of hesitation, she felt one of his arms circle her waist and his other hand tangle in her hair. Her bruised ribs protested, but she didn't care.

"You're very, very late," she whispered in his ear.

"I got caught up," he said flippantly before turning serious. "I'm sorry, Peggy." He moved far enough away to see her face but not let her go. "How late am I?"

"Today is the seventeenth of August." Steve let out a whistle of astonishment. "Nineteen forty-nine," she finished.

"Forty-nine?" he echoed. "You're not pulling my leg are you? Why can't I remember the last four years?"

Peggy perched on the arm of the chair. "We believe you were frozen for at least three and a half years. Howard found the wreckage of the _Valkyrie_ last October. He went back in May with a team and the aircraft was gone."

"So that's how I ended up in Russia?"

"Precisely."

"And you, Howard, and the SSR came to find me?"

"More or less. A lot has changed in four years, Steve. You might want to sit down for this," she said, patting the spot next to her. He complied and watched her expectantly. She was reminded of the day of his transformation when he followed her like a lost puppy.

"The war ended not long after you went missing. Howard searched for you for months, and he found the Tesseract-the cube-but not the plane. We all went back to the US-"

"Even you?" Steve interrupted.

"Even me. I actually lived in Brooklyn for about a year while working for the SSR." She didn't mention why she chose his native Brooklyn over any other SSR post, and it didn't occur to him to ask.

"And after that?"

"I was offered a new position in Washington, D.C." She smiled at Steve's approving expression, like he expected nothing less from her. "The SSR was replaced by a new organization called S.H.I.E.L.D. That is where I work now."

"Shield?" he asked skeptically.

"It's an acronym for the most unwieldy name for which I take no responsibility. It was Howard and General Phillips. But I do think you may have inspired them," she said fondly with a nod towards his iconic shield sitting in the corner of the room.

Steve suddenly tensed, and seconds later Peggy also heard the raised voices that put him on alert. Howard was berating the agents outside for leaving her alone with Steve.

"Peggy, what the hell are you doing," Howard yelled as he barged in. He saw them sitting close together on the chair and stopped so suddenly that Dugan nearly ran into him.

"Calm down, Howard," she said soothingly as she stood up.

"Careful Stark, she's knocked men out for less than that," Steve quipped.

"Rogers, you're...you again." Peggy couldn't help but smile at smooth-talking Howard Stark being at a loss for words.

"Cap," Dugan acknowledged with a nod. "Nice to see they didn't turn you into a homicidal maniac."

Steve looked from Dugan to Stark to Peggy. "Was that a possibility?"

Stark shrugged. "Almost anything is possible. Come on, your worker bees brought dinner."

"One more question," Steve whispered conspiratorially. "Whose shirt is this?"

For the first time in a very long time, Peggy laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **It's _Agent Carter_ premiere day, so treat yourself to some Peggy and Steve interaction before heading back to the canon universe.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

In the middle of the night, Peggy again found herself unable to sleep as she lay in her cot in the darkened room. This time the nightmare had been different-she searched all over a deserted laboratory looking for something that she couldn't find, becoming more and more frantic as she searched. Now that she was awake, she could explain the dream away as worry over Steve's recovery, but try as she might, she couldn't relax enough to go back to sleep. She could hear Reed's soft breathing from across the room and crept silently from the cot to avoid waking the other woman.

A small fire burned in the fireplace to warm the poorly insulated house against the nighttime chill, and it was the main source of light in the room. Peggy wrapped the blanket from her cot around her shoulders and moved slowly from the bedroom though her eyes were already adjusted to the dim light. She saw Parker and Belenko at the table looking over papers by the light of a small lantern and Steve seated on the couch by the fireplace with an open file folder in front of him. Belenko must have found clothing for him, as he now wore khaki trousers and a white shirt with the long sleeves rolled up. The wires protruding from his scalp were completely gone, and other than the shorn hair, Steve looked like himself again.

"May I?" she asked softly as she nodded towards the empty spot on the couch. Steve moved over to give her plenty of room before clearing away the scattered papers and returning them neatly to the folder. "What are you reading?" she asked.

"Soviet intelligence reports. Agent Belenko loaned them to me," he said, sounding uncertain whether he was allowed to read them. "I'm trying to get caught up."

"Studious as ever, I see."

"If you're having trouble sleeping, you can have them. I'm sure you'll be out in no time."

"And yet you seem to be perfectly awake."

Steve looked down at the folder, running his fingers across the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo emblazoned on the front. "I've been asleep for four years. What's your excuse?"

"Nightmares," she said frankly.

They had occurred fairly frequently among the men Steve had served with, and he'd certainly had enough of his own. "The war?" he asked.

"Sometimes," Peggy hedged, her eyes darting to Parker and Belenko. The agents showed no sign of listening, but whether they meant to eavesdrop or not, it was hard to disregard their training.

"So all these people report to you?" he asked, changing the topic to something more comfortable.

"Well, not Howard or Sergeant Dugan, of course, but the others do, along with a few more in Washington."

"I never thought much about what I might do after the war. I guess I wasn't entirely sure I'd make it home, especially not after Bucky…" he trailed off.

Peggy placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "When this is over, I'm certain there is a place for you within S.H.I.E.L.D. if you wish. Or did you plan to resume your stage career?"

Steve flushed slightly at the memory. "I think S.H.I.E.L.D. might be a better fit for me. I never liked all the fuss."

Peggy wasn't sure a fuss could be avoided when a great war hero returned from the dead, but she silently vowed to do whatever she could to give Steve what he wanted.

"Now that your agents are gone, will you tell me what's really bothering you?" Steve asked, interrupting her thoughts. Peggy glanced behind them to confirm that Belenko and Parker had left, likely for a perimeter check.

"As I said, nightmares. It's silly, really," she said, trying to dismiss the topic. She couldn't bear his concerned expression at the moment.

"It's not silly, Peggy. It was a war. You aren't the only person who can't sleep because of it."

"It's not the war most of the time, not really," she admitted softly. She looked up at him and steeled herself with a deep breath. "It's the day we took the HYDRA base in the alps."

Steve looked puzzled as he reviewed the events of that day in his mind, trying to figure out what had caused such trauma. Peggy watched him expectantly, too embarrassed to spell it out for him.

"Did something else happen after I..." he started to ask. Peggy just shook her head silently. "When I crashed Schmidt's bomber. Oh, Peggy, I made you listen to all of that."

"You didn't make me do anything. I just felt so helpless. There was nothing I could do to save you." She sighed. "I've relived that day hundreds of times. I suppose I have to keep reassuring myself that you're really here."

Steve gently took one of her hands in his, and Peggy stared into the light of the fire to force away the tears threatening to well up. She told herself it was the lack of sleep playing with her emotions.

"I was quite angry with you for awhile," she commented later, still staring at the fire with her hand still firmly enfolded within Steve's.

"I'm glad I missed that part."

Peggy arched a brow in wry amusement and finally looked back at Steve. He studied her as if committing her features to memory. Given his own enhanced memory, he didn't actually need to do that.

"You know, Howard once said you were more frightened of me than of any Nazi."

"I think the same could be said for most of the men in the SSR. And probably your agents, too."

"Perhaps," she replied noncommittally. She raised her free hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn.

"You should get some sleep."

"I'm fine," she protested as he moved his large frame from the couch to sit on the floor.

"How can you lead the troops if you're dead on your feet, Agent Carter?"

"You can't give me orders, Captain." Despite her words, she shifted to lie down on the couch and reposition the blanket over her. She was too tired to hide the wince as her ribs protested the movement.

"Are you okay?"

"Just a little bruised." Once settled, she took Steve's hand again and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>Rested, fed, and resupplied, the team regrouped the next morning to plan a second assault on Laboratory No. 2.<p>

"What went wrong last time?" Peggy asked, looking at Agent Parker.

"Only about half of the detonators went off. I don't know why." Parker didn't add his theory about sabotage in front of the larger group.

Peggy turned to Howard. "I don't know, either," he said. "They're usually reliable. Possibly a lot of radio interference in the room, but you'd think we would have noticed it on our radios. Or maybe it was user error."

Parker bristled at the implication. "Sam knew what he was doing."

"What if we used something immune to interference," Steve suggested. Peggy noticed he'd stayed off to the side during the meeting, so different from their planning sessions during the war.

"You mean timers? And risk blowing all of us up, too?" Howard scoffed.

"I'll do it," Steve offered. Peggy opened her mouth to protest when he locked eyes with her. "I have the best chance of success. And if something goes wrong, well, I'm more likely to survive than any of you."

"Just like taking out a HYDRA base," Dugan added.

"With only a quarter of the Howling Commandos and a severe lack of weaponry," Peggy pointed out.

"I can get us weaponry," Belenko said. "Matt can retrieve the explosives from our base."

"I'll go, too," Pearson volunteered.

"And Sergeant Dugan will accompany you, as well," Peggy announced. "I'm sure you must have learned something from Dernier."

"Yes, ma'am," Dugan replied blithely.

"Mr. Stark will accompany Agent Belenko. See if you can come up with something a little more intimidating than a pistol. Agent Reed, Captain Rogers, and I will check out the lab to see what changes they've made since our last visit."

"Peggy," Howard started to protest as he watched Steve with suspicion.

"We shall reconvene at 1600 hours-same place as before. Don't be late."

Parker, Pearson, and Dugan departed while Belenko hung back, waiting for Stark.

"Be reasonable, Peg," Stark pleaded. "We still don't know what they did to him."

"Then you'd better leave me plenty of tranquilizer darts."

* * *

><p>The entire team reorganized on-time, each mission having gone according to plan. Howard's concern had been for naught, as Steve had seemed to be his normal self all day. He'd even devised a way to hook his shield on his back.<p>

Stark and Belenko displayed their black market weapons haul on the ground. The quality wasn't impressive, but the quantity was. Stark had even managed to make a few improvements already. Dugan and Parker, who'd kept a very close watch on Pearson, had the explosives primed and ready to go. Only Reed was missing, as Peggy asked her to send a coded update to General Phillips.

"Agents Belenko, Parker, and Pearson will go in with the shift change and unload the explosives on the janitorial carts. Many of the scientists will be leaving at that time, and you should be able to get in unnoticed. Once the majority of the workers have left the laboratory, Belenko will trigger the radiation alarm. That's the signal for Captain Rogers and Sergeant Dugan to start placing the explosives."

"The radiation alarm will clear the lab," Belenko explained, "but it also triggers automatic doors to seal off the lab from the rest of the building. Mr. Stark will make sure we can get past them."

"And if that doesn't work, we can always blow our way out," Stark added. "But with timed explosives, the quicker we can get out, the better."

"Try for plan A, Howard," Peggy said crisply. "Agent Reed and I will assist Mr. Stark and keep the exits clear. You have twenty minutes to get into position."

No matter how many operations like this she'd been through, Peggy still felt a tiny flutter of nerves in her stomach. Armed and ready, the team filed out to reach their designated starting positions. Steve trailed behind, and Peggy placed her hand on his arm to stop him.

"Please be careful," she said, looking up at him and committing his face to memory in case she lost him again through some cruel twist of fate.

"You, too," he replied softly. "You said you'd teach me to dance, and I'm going to hold you to it." He held her gaze for a moment before tearing himself away and heading towards the door.

"Just don't be late," she called after him. Steve faltered and turned back, crossing the distance in two long strides. Before Peggy could ask what was wrong, he was kissing her. After the momentary shock, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She felt a little breathless when he pulled away.

"For luck," he said before retreating to find Dugan.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The radiation alarm went off according to plan, and Peggy led Howard and Agent Reed into the lab. The large space was mostly empty, but not empty enough. Gunfire sounded as her agents faced off against the Soviet soldiers. Howard immediately went to work disabling the automatic door.

"I've got it!" Stark exclaimed behind her. Peggy turned to see the door whoosh shut. "Or not," he amended.

"Get it open quickly," she shouted as she picked a soldier off the catwalk above. "We don't have a lot of time."

"I am acutely aware of that," he retorted, sounding annoyed.

The sound of battle from across the lab was escalating. The only good thing about the sealed door was that it prevented the arrival of more soldiers. The only other exit was still blocked by the cave-in from their previous assault.

"Protect Stark," she ordered Reed and ran into the fray. Steve was surrounded by five men, but as she watched, he took them out one by one with his shield. Dugan was holding his own with his rifle, and over by the computer banks that separated the medical lab from the main room, Parker and Belenko were working back to back shooting guards on the catwalks like they'd done this before. Pearson was slumped against the wall with a bullet wound to his right shoulder and was attempting to shoot left-handed. One of the Soviets was about to take advantage of Pearson's poor aim when Peggy downed him with a clean shot to the head. She pulled Pearson to his feet and helped him towards the exit.

She glanced into the medical lab and once again noticed the human-sized metal capsules lining the walls. She recalled Reed mentioning other human test subjects, so she ran back after getting Pearson settled. Peggy kept her back pressed against the warm, humming computer banks as she rounded the corner. The soldiers were all in the main laboratory–this section was completely empty. She ran to the nearest pod and peered in the darkened glass window. It looked vacant. She checked several more but none were occupied. Maybe Reed had imagined it.

Peggy scanned the room again, hoping to find something to shed light on what had been done to Steve in this room. She noticed a large empty space on one of the walls that previously had a solid line of capsules and filing cabinets. The cabinet was gone. Maybe Reed hadn't imagined anything. Both the research and the subjects had been removed. Either the last assault had spooked them or they knew S.H.I.E.L.D. was coming back. Peggy hoped it was the former, and she ran back to the exit.

She was surprised to find Howard collapsed beside the door and Reed nowhere in sight.

"Howard," she exclaimed kneeling beside him and hurriedly checking him over. He didn't appear to be bleeding. He let out a groan and a mumbled curse before moving a hand to his head and opening his eyes.

"Someone beaned me."

"Where's Agent Reed?"

"I don't know," Howard said, slowly getting to his feet.

"And the door?"

"I think it's time for plan B."

"Stay here," she ordered. "I'll get you help." She sprinted part way across the lab shouting for Steve and delivering a solid right hook to a guard who got too close. Steve rushed to her faster than she expected. "Can you pull the door open?"

"I'll try. Dum Dum, plan B," he called without looking behind him.

"You got it, Cap," Dugan responded as he swung the butt of his rifle into another soldier's head.

Peggy returned to doors to find Steve and Howard had pried them far enough apart to wedge the edge of Steve's shield between them. A familiar voice behind her speaking in Russian caused her to turn around.

"Agent Reed, where did you–" Peggy broke off at the sight of the pistol pointed at her chest.

"I can't let you succeed," Reed said calmly, her hand steady.

Pearson noticed them and shouted, "Eleanor, what are you doing?"

"I don't want to kill you, John. Stay out of my mission, and I won't have to." Reed's voice shook slightly with the threat. Pearson was stunned into silence.

"The charges are set. There isn't enough time to disarm them all. The lab will be destroyed, but you don't have to be," Peggy reasoned.

"But you do." Reed spoke again in Russian, and Steve, who had been strangely motionless during the exchange, approached. He seemed oblivious to Reed or her gun as he walked up to Peggy, and before she could think to defend herself, he had his hand wrapped around her throat. Peggy's hands instinctively went to his to try to loosen his grip and let some air into her lungs. If he'd used his full strength, she'd be dead already, but even now his hand was an unyielding vise.

"Steve," she rasped. "It's me, Peggy. You have to fight this." In the distance she could hear Howard yelling at Pearson to shoot him, but it took all her focus to keep pulling at the hand around her neck. The blue eyes across from her were cold and vacant.

"You've never backed away from a fight," she whispered painfully. "Don't let the bully win." The iron grip around her neck loosened just the tiniest bit, and she strained to pull air into her lungs.

Peggy was vaguely aware of Reed shouting in Russian and other voices yelling in the room, but the blackness at the edge of her vision was growing larger and larger, threatening to consume her.

She must have passed out briefly because when she came to, she saw Steve squeezing something in his other hand and the grip on her neck was continuing to loosen. Steve blinked and suddenly released her like his hand was on fire. Howard caught her before she could hit the cement floor. Peggy took a shallow, painful breath and noticed Reed lying on the ground.

Footsteps pounded towards them, and Dugan shouted, "Time to go!"

Steve moved slowly, looking dazed, but he helped Dugan pull the door open. Peggy would have gasped if her lungs allowed it when she saw three bullet wounds in Steve's back, his white shirt stained red with blood. Howard tried to pick her up, but she waved him away and chose to stand with help. Parker hoisted up the unconscious Reed, and Belenko helped Pearson through while Steve and Dugan held the doors open.

The first explosion shook the building just as Steve stepped through the door, releasing it to slam shut behind him. The rest of the building was thankfully vacant as navigating the rumbling stairs was difficult enough. The team moved through the darkened streets of Moscow as quickly as they could, not concerned about drawing attention at this point. The three vehicles still waited at their meeting point, and the small caravan headed north out of Moscow.

Peggy looked out the rear window to see a red fireball rise into the night sky. Her throat and lungs ached, and she couldn't produce more than a raspy whisper. "Howard, that wasn't-"

"Nuclear? Not even close," he replied, glancing in the rearview mirror as he drove.

"What happened?"

"Are you asking about the explosion or Captain America trying to kill you?"

"But he didn't." She couldn't resist glancing at the car behind them with Steve, Dugan, and Pearson. "I think something got through to him. Besides, we have a bigger problem. We had a Soviet mole in S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Think there might be more?"

"Possibly." Peggy paused in thought. "She must have notified the MGB about Volkov."

"And tampered with the explosives. She was the one helping Osborn, wasn't she?"

"Who knows what other information she may have passed on. No one would question an analyst looking for files."

"Looks like you've got a bit of work to do," Howard said as he turned off the dark stretch of highway and pulled over. The other two vehicles followed his lead.

"What are you doing? We're not even halfway to Leningrad."

"Hitching a ride," he replied, pulling out the long collapsible antenna of a homing beacon and depressing the button on the front of the device. Howard got out of the car and looked up at the sky, and Peggy followed suit. She heard a noise like a propeller, but louder and choppier. Suddenly, bright lights illuminated the field as a helicopter touched down.

The seven agents (more or less) picked their way carefully but quickly across uneven terrain. Dugan carried the tranquilized traitor, Reed. Howard and Peggy reached the helicopter first, and Howard took the seat next to the pilot.

"Good evening Mister Stark, Miss Carter," the pilot greeted them in clipped, British tones.

"Jarvis?" Peggy asked incredulously.

"We have a slight trust problem in S.H.I.E.L.D. right now," Howard explained. "And Jarvis is checked out on the new Stark H-5."

Peggy resisted rolling her eyes and joined the others taking their seats. The only empty spot was between Belenko and Pearson. Someone had hastily bandaged Pearson's shoulder, but the white bandage was already staining red. She saw that Reed had been handcuffed to a railing and silently nodded in approval before noticing the cuffs around Steve's wrists.

"Is this necessary?" she asked, not sure where to direct the question.

"I asked," Steve replied calmly. "I couldn't risk hurting anyone."

"Maybe we should gag Reed, too," Belenko said bitterly. Pearson flinched at the comment.

"She fooled us all," Peggy said gently.

"What are you going to do with her?" Pearson asked.

"She'll be questioned and turned over to the Department of Justice."

Pearson nodded, and Peggy wasn't quite sure if he was satisfied or relieved by her answer. Maybe both. The helicopter's rotors started up again, and the noise precluded any further conversation.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Seeing the Thames River winding through London below them caused Peggy to nearly sigh with relief. Stark landed the helicopter on the roof of a former SSR facility in Greenford. The large, blocky, beige building was just one of many in a neighborhood of factories.

Two guards emerged from the stairwell with rifles at the ready to greet the helicopter. Peggy alighted first, flanked by Belenko and Parker.

"Identify yourselves," the guard on the right yelled over the slowing beat of the rotors.

Peggy still wasn't capable of producing more than a stage whisper, so she waited until the noise of the helicopter abated. "Margaret Carter of S.H.I.E.L.D. I have five agents, one of whom is injured, one civilian, and one prisoner. I should hope MI6 can provide temporary assistance."

One of the guards pulled out a radio and moved out of earshot. When he returned, he nodded to his partner, who lowered his weapon. "This way, please."

The inside of the facility was mostly unchanged since Peggy, Howard, and Steve had last been there five years earlier. The lighting was dim and the space was designed for utility, not comfort. Fortunately, the medical bay was still staffed, and Parker and one of the guards accompanied Pearson to the doctor.

"I thought you said one prisoner," a male English voice said from behind them. Peggy turned quickly to see an average looking man in a brown tweed suit. "A pleasure, Director Carter. I'm Agent Smythe."

"This woman is the prisoner," she replied, gesturing to Reed, who was being detained by Dugan. She didn't miss Smythe's glance at Steve's cuffed wrists.

"I'd appreciate a secure location as a precaution," Steve said. His matter-of-fact attitude accompanied by handcuffs only perplexed Smythe.

"A separate location from our prisoner," Peggy added hastily.

Smythe nodded to the remaining guard, who escorted Reed down the hall. "I trust you can explain your unusual circumstances?"

"Need to know. You know how it goes."

Smythe's genial attitude started to slip. "May I remind you this is no longer an SSR facility. I'll see to it your agents are well cared for, but we need to talk."

Smythe led her to his office where a large desk held a porcelain tea service on top. He rounded the desk and gestured for Peggy to sit in the chair across from him. He silently poured a cup of tea and handed it to Peggy.

"And now I'd like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. has shown up at my door."

Peggy held the warm teacup without drinking and began to recount a highly edited version of the events of the past week. Smythe listened quietly while he sipped his tea.

"I suppose we ought to thank you for putting a damper on their nuclear weapons program," Smythe commented when she was finished. "However, I trust you won't be staying long."

"We are all quite anxious to get home."

Smythe looked satisfied with her answer and insisted she see the doctor, personally accompanying Peggy to the medical office where a man with graying red hair was wrapping a clean bandage around Pearson's shoulder.

"How are you holding up, Agent Pearson?" Peggy asked. His face was pale, making the fading purple and yellow bruises on his face stand out in stark relief.

"I'm doing better, ma'am."

The doctor tied Pearson's arm in a sling. "A few weeks of rest, and you'll be good as new." He turned his attention to Peggy. "That's quite a bruise you have, my dear. Have a seat. You're my first attempted strangulation this month."

Peggy looked at the doctor curiously but perched on the edge of the exam table while the doctor, who introduced himself as Bennett, examined her throat and eyes. "I don't see any broken cartilage. I'll give you something for the swelling, but you need to rest."

"I need to check on my team, doctor," Peggy replied as Dr. Bennett rummaged through a cupboard of vials. He removed one and filled a syringe. Peggy held still while he administered the injection.

"That's the problem with all you agents. Too much work and no rest. I'll have someone find you some fresh clothes, and you can wash up."

"Another member of my team was injured. Smythe will know where he is."

"I'll see to him as soon as we're done here and you promise to rest."

Peggy wanted to protest, but she was suddenly feeling very tired and lay back on the exam table.

"Apologies, my dear, but it's the only way agents like you ever take a break."

Some time later, Peggy woke up in a private room by herself. She groggily got to her feet and shuffled to the door, finding an attached bathroom with a shower. A pile of clothes lay neatly folded on the countertop next to a soft ivory towel. Peggy picked up a small object from the top of the clothing pile and her fuzzy mind identified it as lipstick. Some kind soul included a fresh tube of Victory Red. She still wasn't going to forgive the doctor for drugging her, but a hot shower sounded better than slugging the doctor at this point.

The shower did more for her than any drug the doctor could give her. She towel dried her hair as well as she could and donned the stockings and royal blue dress that was just a little too big. She cinched the belt tight and pulled on her black boots that didn't go with the full-skirted dress at all. With a swipe of red lipstick added, the face in the mirror looked like her own again...almost. She pulled the collar of the dress up higher to try to hide the dark bruise spanning her throat.

She walked back through the room to a door on the opposite side, assuming the hallway lay beyond. Peggy took a few wrong turns before getting her bearings. She wasn't sure where to find Steve or her agents, but she had a few ideas, starting with the brig.

Steve was in a barred cell with handcuffs still attached. He hadn't had the luxury of a shower, but someone provided him a shirt that was clean, albeit a bit small. "This really isn't necessary," she told the black-clad guard sitting in a chair beside the cement wall. She was relieved to hear her voice returning to normal.

"I asked them, Peggy," Steve interjected before the guard could answer. "Reed is in a locked solitary room where she can't cause trouble."

"Then you should be fine," she replied with more confidence than she felt. She stepped right up to the bars but Steve backed away. "Are you okay?"

"I could have killed you," he said in a low voice, ignoring her question. His eyes went to the dark bruise on Peggy's neck. "How do I apologize for that?"

"You don't," she replied briskly, placing her hands on the bars. "What happened wasn't your fault. Did you wish to hurt me?"

"Of course not," Steve said in horror. "It was like I wasn't in control of my own body."

A slight scraping noise to her left indicated the guard standing up to leave them in peace. She waited a moment for the sound of footsteps to recede. "But something stopped you."

"I could hear you, and I tried to fight it, but this," he reached awkwardly with both hands to pull something out of his pocket. "This brought me back." He opened his fist to reveal the golden compass.

Peggy stared at it thoughtfully. "It also triggered your memories before. Perhaps something was built into the programming as a safety switch."

"Maybe it's safer with you for now." He held out the compass to her, but Peggy grasped his hand firmly.

"We will fix this. S.H.I.E.L.D. has a number of brilliant scientists, and I promise you I will do everything I can to help."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Two Weeks Later  
><em>_September 1949_

"You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

Peggy looked up from the memo she was reading to see Agent Belenko hovering in the doorway to her office. The blonde woman's emerald dress looked brand new as she'd left Russia with only the clothes on her back.

"Come in and shut the door." Belenko did as instructed and sat in the chair across from Peggy. "As you're well aware, we had a leak within S.H.I.E.L.D., and I'd like you to make sure there aren't any others. You'll have access to personnel records and anything else you may need."

"Are you asking me to be internal affairs?" Belenko asked, looking uncertain.

"More than that. I need you to go undercover within S.H.I.E.L.D. I think your background makes you particularly suited to do so. You would, of course, have to stay here rather than go back to Moscow."

Belenko considered for a moment. "I'd actually like that a lot, staying here."

"You understand that no one can know your assignment. You'll report directly to me."

"Yes, ma'am, but there are a couple hundred agents to investigate."

"Which is why you'll have a list of potential candidates for your team to me by the end of next week. Congratulations, Agent Belenko. You've been promoted to level eight."

* * *

><p>A once-cheerful bouquet of flowers sat on the corner of Peggy's desk, now wilted. Anna the switchboard operator had given them to Peggy last week as a welcome home gift. Or more likely, a thank god Phillips is going back into retirement gift. Many of the agents were intimidated by Director Carter, but they were terrified of Phillips, especially those who had never worked for him before.<p>

Peggy grabbed the porcelain vase and carried it out to the small shared breakroom, a number of agents nodding or murmuring greetings as she passed. As much as she craved the excitement of working in the field, there was something nice about returning to her familiar office filled with people. She threw the flowers in the trash and poured the water down the sink when she noticed the usual chatter of the office go silent. On alert, she glanced around to see agents perked up like prairie dogs with their eyes glued somewhere near her office. She set the vase down and reached her hand under her jacket to grab her holstered gun as she rounded the corner and saw what all the fuss was about.

Steve Rogers, dressed in a dark gray suit with hat in hand, stood at the door to her office looking slightly lost. Relieved, Peggy let her hand fall away from her gun and strode down the hallway to greet him, her black patent heels clicking on the wood floor.

In an attempt to minimize any fanfare around Steve's return–at least within S.H.I.E.L.D.–Peggy had spread the word through the biggest office gossip, Anna. Within a day, all of operations was aware that Captain America was back and wanted to stay incognito. That still didn't stop a hundred pairs of curious eyes from following him all around the building. Of course, Peggy's control only spread so far. She didn't know how the rest of the world would react, having spent the last several years inundated with Captain America comic books, a radio show, and a film in technicolor.

"Hello, Steve," she said from behind him.

"Hey Peggy. Director Carter," he amended, glancing at the nameplate on her office door.

Peggy raised an eyebrow at the formality. "Do come in, Captain." She shut the door behind him, much to the disappointment of every prying eye and ear in the bullpen.

"You didn't tell me _everyone_ here works for you," Steve said, sounding both impressed and chagrined.

"And for Howard. When he comes in, at least." Peggy sat behind her desk, and Steve took the guest chair once she was seated. "How are you?"

Several members of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s science division had been working with Steve for the last ten days to understand and counteract the Soviet programming. While Peggy received daily reports that she barely understood, she hadn't had a chance to say much more than hello to Steve since then.

"I'm all right. Howard seems optimistic. Pearson was able to remember the trigger phrase, but no one has been able to make it work for the last three days."

"That's excellent progress. And yet you don't seem happy about it."

"It's not that." Steve fiddled with the hat in his hands. "I'm not sure what to do. There's no one back in New York. The war is over, and I'm not needed anymore."

"Hmm. Have we come full circle back to lab rat or dancing monkey?" Steve looked up to meet her gaze, and she continued with conviction, "I think you know full well where I stand on that. Maybe the army doesn't need you anymore, but other people do."

Steve watched with curiosity as Peggy removed something from a drawer in her desk. A square of black leather sat atop a picture frame. Peggy rose and moved to stand in front of Steve, handing him the first object. He opened the black holder to reveal a shiny silver badge with a familiar eagle insignia. Above it was a card with his name and the title "Agent."

"I promised there was a place for you in S.H.I.E.L.D. You can protect people from the Soviets, Zodiac, and anything else that comes along. It's a little different than storming HYDRA bases, but I hope you might consider relocating to Washington."

Steve looked slowly from the badge to Peggy. "I would be honored."

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent Rogers," Peggy said, shaking his hand.

"Just when I'd gotten used to Captain."

"I suspect some will still call you that. In fact, once word gets out that you're alive, there might be quite a demand for Captain America."

Steve hid a slight grimace and looked down, noticing the photo in the frame still laying face-up on Peggy's desk. "You kept this?" he asked, picking it up. The tall, broad-shouldered man standing before Peggy looked little like his 90 pound former self in the photo. The man in the picture wasn't aware he was being photographed as he watched something out of the frame, longish hair threatening to fall over his eyes.

Peggy flushed a little. She wasn't entirely sure why she took it out of the desk drawer it had lived in for the past three years. Maybe it was to make a point to Steve, who, for such an intelligent man, could be entirely obtuse at times.

"After you disappeared, Captain America was everywhere, but it wasn't you. This was the only thing I had to remember Steve Rogers."

Steve carefully placed the photograph back on Peggy's desk before taking her hands in his. "I'll make it up to you someday," he vowed.

"You already have."

* * *

><p>Eleanor Reed sat in a Department of Justice interview room, locked in but not handcuffed. She'd been questioned extensively, first by S.H.I.E.L.D. and then by the DOJ, but she didn't know much about the people she worked for. Reed was an informant, a tiny cog in the machine. Her failed attempt to sabotage S.H.I.E.L.D. in Russia was a mission of opportunity. If not for that, she might have gone on feeding information to the other side for years.<p>

The door to the dimly-lit room opened to admit a man in a dark pinstripe suit and black overcoat. His hat stayed on, casting a shadow on his face, but Reed could make out enough of his features to recognize him as one of her contacts. She smiled broadly as she realized they were breaking her out. She wouldn't spend the rest of her life in jail or be executed for treason.

Reed stood and raised both arms in front of her. "Hail HYDRA," she saluted.

Her smile turned to fear as the man raised a gun and shot her in the forehead. "Hail HYDRA," he returned softly as he holstered his weapon and left the room, leaving Reed's body lying on the floor in a rapidly expanding pool of blood.


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Peggy Carter sat alone at a small table in a softly lit and smoky room with half a glass of scotch in front of her. A band played on the opposite side of the room, across the dance floor already filled with couples jitterbugging on a Saturday evening.

Her hair was freshly curled, and on a whim, she bought a new dress earlier that day. It was rose-red with a flared skirt that went below her knees. She consulted the delicate gold watch on her wrist to see that it was five minutes to eight.

She looked up to see the crowd and haze part to reveal Steve in the same charcoal suit he'd worn to her office earlier in the week. She was still getting used to seeing him in civilian clothes. Blue eyes met brown and both were momentarily speechless. Peggy started having inane second thoughts about her dress, the location, everything.

"You look beautiful," he said, finally sitting down. "This is far more terrifying than Nazis," he said under his breath. Peggy tried hard to bite back a smile but failed. "And now I've said something stupid."

She took his hand across the table. "The only way you could ruin this evening was by not showing up. You've already succeeded."

"Don't go lowering your standards, Peggy."

"Hardly." She leaned closer to whisper, "I can guarantee you every woman in the room envies me right now. Come along," she said as she tugged his hand upward. "I've been waiting a very long time for this."

The song ended and the band moved smoothly into the next number, a nice slow instrumental. Steve looked at Peggy suspiciously as she led him out to the dance floor. She placed his right hand on her back and gently laid her arm atop his as she took his other hand in hers. Peggy had a terrible habit of leading when dancing and had no trouble guiding Steve, who was catching on quickly anyway. The song was over too soon, but the next one was only a little faster. She could feel him start to relax a little, and soon enough Steve was leading her into turns and hadn't stepped on her toes once.

It was almost midnight by the time they left the club, and Peggy couldn't remember a better evening than this. She held her wrap tightly around her to protect against the fall chill and looped her arm through Steve's. Peggy's apartment was only a few blocks away, and Steve's newly acquired apartment wasn't much beyond that.

He accompanied her to her door and paused, not quite sure what to do. The expression of joy on Peggy's face all evening boosted his confidence, and her expectant look now told him what to do. He leaned down to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms firmly around his neck as she responded. When they finally parted, he couldn't help his slightly goofy smile.

"Same time next Saturday?" he asked.

"Don't be late."

.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Here we are at the end of our journey. I hope you've enjoyed it! A few astute readers asked me about the Winter Soldier and whether he was part of Laboratory No. 2. I'm so glad you picked up on that, and I did contemplate having him appear in this story but instead chose to leave myself room for a sequel in this happy little alternate universe.


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